I FINALLY got to use my passport!

In my mind, I am a worldly, tuxedo-wearing, international man of mystery, jetting to and fro, blending seamlessly with my surroundings … by all appearances a high-class, streetwise native of whatever far-flung, exotic locale in which I find myself.

In reality, I rarely leave the house.

But I have a passport. Oh yes, a passport. A passport with which I could gain entry to any country of my choosing. France, for example.

It was in December of 2001 when I secured my first and only passport. Somehow, despite being a bona fide adventurous, carpe diem kinda guy, I had managed to make it through more than three decades on earth without needing one. Embarrassing … but I’m also the guy who grew up 250 miles away from New York City and never got there until I was 25 years old.

Truth is, until I reached my 30s, I had no interest in going anywhere other than Florida, Mexico or the Carribean. (This should offer some insight as to why, when I step outside lately, I say things out loud to myself like, “Oh yeah! Snow and ice, baby! This is great! Let’s live in New England! BRILLIANT IDEA, DUMB ASS!)

But then, in early 2002, I got my big chance to finally experience Europe. France, to be exact. And not just France, but Paris. Gay Paris, as they say. Though I’m not gay. (Not that there’s anything wrong with that.)

My brother was, at the time, living in Paris, and Wonder Woman and I had made plans to experience the city with both him and his Parisian then-girlfriend, and how cool would that have been? Our own native tour guide … whose family also has a home in the beautiful coastal region of Brittany, to which we had planned to travel by train, and can you even imagine the unbridled awesomeness?

And then the sky cracked open and the hand of god reached down and bitch-slapped me with a pink slip two weeks before our departure, and we had to bail. But, hey, no problem, we were still young and childless and renting instead of owning and there would be plenty of time to travel and experience the world before we got bogged down in parenthood and home-“ownership” (Ha! Like we own this place! BWAHAHAHAHA!), right?

And here it is, eight years later, and do you see the passport shown above? Let me share with you how many customs stamps appear on the pages contained therein: ZERO. ZILCH. NADA. NONE.

But today, my friends … today, I finally got to use my passport. Yes, that’s right: the very official-looking woman in charge needed to see it … and being the experienced world traveler that I am, well, I suavely and nonchalantly slid it across the desk so that she could peruse it and confirm that the dashing man in front of her — by all appearances, a handsome, 007-like spy — was, in fact, who he said he was.

And then she issued me my replacement library card.

I kept thinking I was going to find my wallet, which has been missing since last weekend. It’s gone missing before … or, rather, I’ve lost it before … because that’s just something I have a tendency to do with great frequency (see previous entry about ADD). But then I got an email from my bank that contained the “site-key unlock code” that I had apparently requested at 11:31 p.m. Wednesday night … except that I wasn’t doing any online banking at 11:31 p.m. on Wednesday night. Fuck.

Fortunately, the bottom-feeding scumbag who found my wallet and tried to do a little online banking in my name was unsuccessful. (Unfortunately, a.) that person now knows where I live, b.) I have to replace all my shit, and c.) I can’t replace the little pink tissue-paper heart that Wonder Woman gave me, like, 11 years ago, on which she wrote “My heart is always with you.” That last one really pisses me off. Die, wallet-stealer. Die.)

But I got to use my passport. Now if only I could get to Europe. *sigh*

26 Comments

If it makes you feel better, I’m hitting 40 at the end of this month and have never owned a passport. Not only do you own a passport but you’ve actually used it now! I don’t have the budget for travelling so it’s a really good thing that I’m a real homebody.

Ooh… thx for the reminder. I either have to get my UK passport replaced, or finally get my butt in gear, fill out an N-400, get citizenship and procure my own US passport. I have only used my passport once, for the trip over here, in November 2000!
.-= Dudge OH´s last blog ..Undeck The Halls =-.

I’m sorry about the pink heart. That really sucks. Maybe, just maybe, said POS wallet stealer will dump your wallet into a mailbox instead of a trash can and the pink heart will make its way home with your drivers’ license.

My mother-in-law’s purse was stolen when she left it in a Burger King ladies’ room. Three weeks after I searched every trash can at that crummy fast-food joint, her purse miraculously appeared — thoroughly intact down to the last dollar — on the floor of her car.
.-= Just Me´s last blog ..It Really Makes No Sense =-.

What a terrible way to start the new year! Hey…it can only get better, right? Thank goodness the thief wasn’t smart enough to use your card. But what a hassle to replace everything. And my eyes teared up over the pink heart….that is priceless and so sweet you’ve carried it around all these years. Maybe someday it’ll turn up somewhere.
Very clever post, by the way…even if the circumstances were terrible!

Wallet stealers suck! I got the chance to live in Europe for half of 2008 and I visited several countries and they only stamped my passport 3 times. That photo is pure awesome! and I’m going to vote now.
.-= Dcan´s last blog ..Happy New Year 2010 =-.

That sucks but atleast they didn’t screw you over like they did when my husband’s wallet went missing. They figured out the pin to his debit card (we canadians like to be different!) and fake deposited 1200$ so they actually pull the real cash out, nice huh? and to top it off the bank didn’t believe that is wasn’t us. long story short, we don’t know if they caught the guy and the bank gave us our rent money back.. lol

It MAY show up! I had my wallet stolen while i was signing my receipt at a crowded bar one night. I had to cancel all my debit card, but that was about it. I being a procrastinator put off going to the DMV for a couple of weeks because well. duh!

And lo and behold I found it in my mailbox one day, mailed from 4 towns over from the restaurant I was at. No cash mind you. But seeing as how I was paying with a debit card that night I probably didnt have much in it anyway.